Pairing: Spike/Xander
Rating: NC17
Wordcount: 1507
Warnings: Could be considered slightly non-con, if you squint and look at it sideways.
Disclaimer: Not mine, no money being made from this.
Author Notes: I really tried to write actual fic, but my plot muse abandoned me and left it’s cousin, Randy, to inspire me instead.
Beta: vccv
Summary: Written for fall_for_sx. A spell goes wrong. Or so we assume.

Messages in Red

by
Jameschick

It was dark, and the air reeked of magic and sex. Hot, slick skin slid against his own naked flesh. He didn’t remember undressing. He didn’t remember where he was, or how he’d gotten there. There was no worry, though. There was only want, and heat, and the smell of musk. He reached for the body atop him and pulled it impossibly closer.

There was hot breath panting in his ear, and a solid muscular chest pressed tight against his own. A hard cock was pressed intimately against his thigh. He groaned.

It had been so long, too long, since he’d been taken this way. Too long since he’d given into the need to submit himself to another man. Not since Angelus got his soul. But this was definitely not Angelus.

He was surrounded by the scents of others, but only one that mattered. This scent was familiar. Sweet and warm and just a little bit spicy. He wanted to drown in it. To take it into his lungs and hold it there. He wanted to surround himself with this man and never let go.

Large, calloused hands parted his thighs and he keened. It might have embarrassed him at any other time, but right now all he wanted was more.

A heavy weight settled between his legs, a hard cock pressing against his own. A wet tongue licked a path from his jaw to his ear. He felt teeth on his lobe, tugging gently.

His arms were pushed up, over his head. His mystery man nuzzled into the hair of his armpit, breathing in his scent and murmuring his approval.

A warm mouth on his nipple, teeth scraping just this side of painful, and he was drawing unnecessary breath. His fingers dug into the carpet beneath him and he arched his back, a low cry escaping his lips. The mouth moved lower.

A wet tongue probed his navel and then bit gently at the skin just beneath it. He lifted his hips, pushing, thrusting into empty air; wanting, needing more. A breathy chuckle answered him, and then the mouth moved lower.

Warm puffs of air were blown over the sensitive tip of his cock and he groaned. “Please,” he heard himself beg, and felt no shame in it despite their audience.

“Patience,” was the whispered reply.

The inside of his thigh was kissed, licked, and nipped playfully. He felt his bones shift under his skin as his true face appeared. He bit his lip with sharp fangs and sucked greedily at his own blood. “Want you,” he growled into the darkness.

“I know.”

The familiarity of the voice was maddening. He knew that if he could just concentrate, he could remember the name of his torturer but every time he tried, he was distracted by more pleasant things.

A kiss on the sole of his foot, a nibble on his big toe, and Spike was ready to scream. His foot was gently lowered to the floor, and the other one grasped gently and lifted toward that sinful mouth. More kisses. More soft, teasing bites on his toes, and then the lips began moving up his leg, stopping to lavish attention on the back of his knee, the inside of his thigh.

He had never been touched like this. So gently. So reverently. He felt like he was being worshipped. Like he was being made love to.

His legs were lifted, knees bent and pressing into his chest. “Hold yourself open for me,” he was told, and he moved without question. A wet stripe was painted up the length of his cock, a soft kiss placed of the tip. Then the mouth moved away, and Spike’s growl of annoyance turned into a rumbling purr as his cheeks were parted and a soft wet tongue began licking at his hole.

The gentle lapping didn’t last long, and Spike howled as he was opened and slicked. Fingers dug into his hips as his hole was plundered again and again. The sounds being made were obscene. Slurping and sucking and wet, squelching noises filled the air. His own moans and cries were almost drowned out by the sounds made by the others in the room, but he paid them no mind. They weren’t important.

“Please!” Spike begged, not knowing if he was begging for more of this man’s tongue in his arse, or begging to be fucked already. Both were appealing, and he really couldn’t decide. All he knew was he wanted more. Needed more. “So close,” he whispered, reaching for his cock and finding his hand seized and then pinned to the floor.

He could have cried then. Was pretty sure he actually did. He cock was so hard it hurt. His balls were swollen and heavy with the need to release. His hole was wet, slick, and ready to be stretched wide, filled with hot, hard cock.

“Fuck me,” he whispered. “Please, please, fuck me.”

The tongue withdrew, his legs were lifted higher, draped over broad, muscular shoulders, and then… Oh heaven!

He felt the blunt head press against him and he pushed back against it, desperation urging him on. He tried to pull the man closer, to get more of that hot, hard, length inside of him. Another inch was all he got before it was withdrawn completely. He was about to protest when he was entered again.

Once more he was given just the tip before it was taken away. Over and over again he was entered just that little bit and no more. He was being teased, taunted, tormented. He wanted more. He wanted it all.

He knew he could take what he wanted. Knew, somehow, that he was stronger than this man, that it would be nothing to roll them over, hold him down, impale himself on that thick column of flesh and ride him for all he was worth. But he wouldn’t. This wasn’t his show after all. That much he knew.

“More,” he growled, clenching around the couple of inches he had inside of him.

The man groaned, stilled, and then pushed all the way in. Spike howled. Pain and pleasure erupted all at once, and he was coming, cock untouched. He felt the cool splashes against his chest, felt his muscles clamping down on the hardness inside him, the man between his thighs began pounding into him, hard and fast.

His toes were curled, his thighs were shaking, and his balls felt empty. His arse was sore, the muscles spasming, and he was still in game-face. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this sexually sated.

Then reality came crashing to the fore, and he sat up in alarm. Wide-eyed in shock, he took in his surroundings. Books? Check. Herbs and talismans? Check. Research table? Counter with a cash register? Check and check.

Naked Scoobies passed out all around him? Unexpected, and frankly, quite startling, but, check.

Yep. He was at The Magic Box. He wondered what the witch had buggered up this time, as he was pretty sure that an orgy had not been her intention.

Steeling himself for the inevitable, he looked down at one Xander Harris sleeping bare-assed naked beside him and snorted softly. Demon girl hadn’t being lying about the boy’s talents, that was for sure.

Spike dressed quickly, ignoring his slight limp and the squelchy feeling of come leaking out of his arse, and made his way to the door. Taking one last look back at the shop, he smirked to himself and wished he could stick around to see the look on the Slayer’s face when she woke up and found her watcher between her legs.

He had his hand on the doorknob when a wicked idea occurred to him and he turned back. Nicking a marker from behind the counter, he knelt down beside Xander and scribbled a short message on the palm of his hand.

Capping the marker, Spike whistled to himself as he left the shop and headed back to his crypt.

~*~*~*~*~

Xander woke an hour or so later to a pounding head, and the recollection of sex. Spectacular, Earth-shattering, mind-blowing sex. The kind of sex you dreamed about having even after hooking up with an eleven hundred year old ex demon who’d seen and done just about everything, and had no inhibitions what-so-ever.

Sitting up and groaning at the pull of his muscles, he took in the scene around him and yelped. He had just about managed to cover his nakedness with his shirt when the others began to stir.

There was yelling - Giles and Buffy. Crying - Willow. Stuttered apologies - Tara, even though none of this was her fault, and embarrassment - from all of them.

And through it all, Xander sat, staring at his hand and the message written in red ink.

Was fun.
Should do it again sometime.

Spike

It was accompanied by a little smiley face with fangs.

And the most disturbing part of it all, Xander thought, was that he was seriously considering it.

The End

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